


Not the End

by TanithCooper



Series: Merthur Party 2013 [1]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Oh wells, This turned out a bit more sober than I expected, whoops
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-28
Updated: 2013-12-28
Packaged: 2018-01-06 11:31:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 484
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1106314
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TanithCooper/pseuds/TanithCooper
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He waited two hundred years for his return, but what exactly did Merlin do in that time?</p><p>Written for the Merthur party of 2013</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not the End

"Thank you…"

Those two words haunted him throughout the ages. Merlin would only have to close his eyes to see the familiar mop of golden hair, the sheer beauty of the once and future king's blue eyes, the grin that pasted itself across his face, but it all was gone again as soon as he opened them.

He was _supposed_ to come back.

When Albion was in danger, he was supposed to come back to save us all, that was how the magic was supposed to work. Merlin walked through many a battle, watch too many innocent men fall for what was being called the greater good. And what a greater good it was, where the rich became richer and the poor became poorer. All the old ways were forgotten and the druids in hiding, knowing that their magic would not be appreciated in these new times.

All the while Merlin stayed young, stayed the same, moving from place to place. He never interfered (Unless it was truly necessary) and watched as the world shaped itself through wars and religion, that went hand in hand many a time.

The first true battle, the battle where chivalry was truly lost, Merlin had been pressured into joining Henry the Fifth in his journey to march through France. Too many lives lost, and too many widows and grieving mothers when they returned home.

Where was Arthur?

The country turned on itself. The civil war.

Parliament against the crown. Guns and swords, horses and men, Bloodshed and death.

That's when Merlin became the healer. Besides, where was the Once and future king? The other half to his coin? Wasn't he supposed to come back when Albion needed him? Wasn't this the worst that the now called 'England' could get?

Apparently not.

The healer walked through the trenches unseen, golden eyes blazing as he cured the sick, healed the wounded. A miracle, most called it. Emrys, said the others.

He had met reincarnations of some of Arthur's knights, Gwaine and Percival fighting side by side as they had always done, Leon now a captain. No one remembered anything.

Then there was peace and another war. Albion recovered and prospered. Merlin settled in the Gower, close to where Camelot had been all those years ago.

He allowed himself to age physically, knowing that he could change himself back to being young again if he wanted. He walked down a country road, shouting at a passing lorry that had almost ran him over for the second time that week. Merlin scowled. The lake had been turned into a tourist attraction, people able to swim in the lake, unable to see the island that lay off of the shores. The sorcerer wandered down to the water's edge, closing his eyes.

Then he heard it.

That voice. The silky, beautiful baritone that hadn't been directed at him for centuries.

"Don't I know you?"


End file.
